This Love Will Be Our Downfall
by pearls1990
Summary: What if Sherlock and John's relationship started when they were teens, but circumstances and people being the way they are, they were forced to be apart?
1. Anything Can Happen

_A quick note: This is a Teen/AU that popped into my head one rainy evening. I couldn't tell you one thing that inspired it, but here is chapter one. My resistance to shipping Sherlock and John is breaking down slowly. I believe I am in love with the bond that Sherlock Holmes and John Watson share as friends and co-workers. It's a very strong relationship that goes beyond any physical or vocal expression. That being said, this will be full of physical expression in later chapters! Any comments or questions are welcome and encouraged! Thank you for reading. _

* * *

"It's fine John, we'll just get you a tutor." John's mother Sophia ruffled his sandy blond hair. It was a cool late October evening and Sophia was cleaning the dinner dishes as her children did their homework.

Across the kitchen table, John's sister, Henrietta snorted. "Like that'll help."

"Shut up, Henry!" John yelled, calling his sister by the nickname he'd given her.

"Henrietta, hush." Their mother scolded.

John and Henry stuck their tongues out at each other.

"Mom, I'm fine, I don't need a tutor."

"Son, you need to get good marks this year and from here on out if you want to get into any sort of medical school."

Henry snorted again.

"Etta, go to your room and study, please." Sophie said with a sigh as she loaded the dishwasher.

"Gladly," Henry gathered her books and ran her hand through her unruly red hair. She left in a huff of striped socks and big black boots.

John sighed and tapped his pencil.

Sophie gave John a comforting smile. He loved his mothers smiles. They would make her pretty green eyes crinkle at the edges and she had one tooth that she hated that was out of place but only family knew about. Her sandy blond hair was curly, but not as much as Henry's. John felt himself lucky that he didn't inherit that trait.

"Besides, this is all advanced, way too much for your mother's reporter mind. You don't want my help."

"But I don't want some dumb college kid making fun of me."

"Well, what if I told you it's not a college kid, it's a retired professor?" She asked as she turned on the dishwasher.

"Ugh, old and stodgy." John crossed his arms and pouted.

"No, not this one," Sophie started a kettle. "This one retired early so he could focus on his own studies and the studies of others."

The boy furrowed his brow and turned to face his mother. "What? Who does that?"

"William Holmes." Sophie said matter-of-factually as she leaned against the counter.

"Oh," John turned back to his homework.

"Now, what is that supposed to mean?" She asked as she poured the hot water over the tea.

"One of his sons is in the same grade as I," John scrubbed his face with his hands as he thought of the pompous ass known as Sherlock Holmes. "He's also in a couple of my classes and he sits in the back and sneers at everyone like we're all stupid. I've gotten in a couple of arguments with him-" John clamped his hand over his mouth.

"So he's the kid you got in trouble with." Sophie said as she sat back in the chair next to John who was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, a foul look on his face.

"No, he got _me_ in trouble!"

Sophia patted her son's shoulder. "Well you won't have to worry about the boy, the father will be tutoring you."

"Still a ratty ole Holmes." John said under his breath as he grabbed his pencil and started on his homework again.

Sophie shook her head and grabbed her tea and walked into the living room.

John looked up as his mother left the room. From where he was sitting he had a pretty good view of his fathers Army picture hanging in he living room. His father was a handsome man, as fathers go; John didn't really go around comparing fathers. The boy inherited all of his fathers looks, except the ginger-blond hair. Henry was the lucky one in that area. Hamish, John's middle name came from his mothers father. Henrietta was a feminized version of John Sr.'s middle name. John Sr. died three years ago taking a bullet for a fellow officer. John Jr. was very proud of his father, but he missed him very much.

John sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. He closed his books and gathered his papers into a neat pile and scooted everything aside. He wasn't going to get anything done at this rate.

"I'm going outside, I need a break." He called to his mom, before stepping out into the crisp October air.

* * *

John didn't expect the Holmes family to be living in a flat, although, to be fair he wasn't sure what to expect. It was the next afternoon as John and Sophia walked up to the front door of that flat. She pushed the doorbell, then turned to John and started fussing with his hair and collar.

"Now, please remember your manners and sit up straight and-"

"Mom. I'm fifteen. I wish you would remember that."

"I'm sorry John. You and Henrietta are growing up so fast I can't-"

"Good afternoon, you must be the Watsons?" The door opened with a flourish and a woman with stylish chestnut hair and a warm smile greeted them.

"Yes thank you," Sophia held her hand out. "I am Sophia and this is John."

"I'm Amanda, I'm William's assistant. Nice to meet you both." Amanda shook both of their hands and gestured them into the flat. Amanda went on talking, but John heard none of it as he took in his surroundings. It wasn't Buckingham Palace by any means, but it was statelier than their little flat in the middle of town. Everything seemed to have a gleam to it, like the housekeepers spent extra time polishing everything. Even the banister to the staircase to his right seemed to shine. John's eye followed the banister to the top of the stairs and stopped. His eyes met scornful light-bluish green eyes and John looked away for a second. _Sherlock_. He looked back again, and the eyes were still staring at him. This time they held genuine curiosity, with only a touch of scorn.

"John, c'mon honey," Sophia called.

John looked at her. He hadn't realized he had fallen behind and ran to catch up with his mother and Amanda. They were standing in front of a study door as Amanda knocked to garner the attention of the men inside. They both looked up. The older gentleman had a warm welcoming look on his face, while the other had a look of sharp irritation in his round face. Both men had dark hair and a smart profile.

"Mr. Holmes, the Watsons are here to see you sir." Amanda said.

"Of course. Come in, please." William stood.

"If there is nothing else father?" The younger man asked pointedly as he gathered paperwork from the large mahogany desk.

"No, Mycroft, thank you." William said as he nodded and buttoned his suit jacket.

Mycroft placed the paperwork in a leather briefcase, grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and stood and left the room, not before shooting the Watsons a disdainful smile.

John glanced over his shoulder and saw that Sherlock was standing just outside the office, his eyes locked on John and made him feel like he was bring hunted. John shivered.

"Thank you very much for meeting us. I appreciate it very much." Sophia said as she shook William's hand.

"You are welcome...pardon me I am terrible with names," William tilted his head toward Sophia.

"Oh gosh, I'm Sophia and this is John." Sophia tried her hardest not to sound flustered as she put a hand on John's shoulder.

"It's nice to meet you John." William shook his hand.

"Thank you sir. Nice to meet you too."

"Please, call me William." He gestured to the two seats. "Please sit. Amanda, will you bring tea, please?"

"Of course," Amanda nodded and left.

"I've been reading your file, John and I have to say that I am impressed. With these marks, you'll make it into medical school in no time." William said after everyone had settled. He had a manilla folder in his hand and he was pointing at it.

"Thank you s-...thank you William."

"I know we talked on the phone, Sophia, but please tell me again what I can help you with?"

"I was hoping that you could give John some help with the more advanced math that has come up in his studies. I'm afraid I can't help. I was never this advanced. He gets his brains from his father."

Amanda came in with the tea and poured while they talked about John's study habits and his future. Suddenly, Sophia's expression became very serious.

"May I have a few moments of your time?"

William furrowed his brow at her. "Of course."

"John, can you leave us alone for a couple moments."

"Uh, sure," John fidgeted and stood and turned to leave the room. He saw Sherlock standing across the foyer leaning against the staircase, his arms and legs crossed.

"I-I'll give the young man a tour of the premises." Amanda broke the awkward silence and and she stood and put her hand on the small of John's back. Sherlock simply stared at John and Amanda.

"Mr. Holmes-" Sophia continued when they left and the door was shut.

"William, please."

"Y-Yes, William," Sophia paused to compose herself. "I did bring John here to be tutored, but, I...well...It's..."

The words caught in her throat and William pushed her tea towards her. She nodded and took a drink.

"Mrs. Watson, I-"

"Ms. Watson- er Sophia, please," she placed a hand on her warm cheek.

"Oh, I'm sorry." A sudden realization came over the elder Holmes as he grabbed the handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the woman. She was on the verge of tears.

"Thank you," Sophia swallowed hard as she accepted the handkerchief. "Ever since my husband's death, things have been different, of course. And the children were sad at first, of course, but they seem to have adjusted well, at least _I_ think they have. I just feel like John should have some sort of male influence in his life. I was hoping you could be a mentor of sorts?" Sophia was wringing her hands the whole time she was talking.

William smiled.

"I don't want to be a burden and I've always been of the thought that it never hurts to ask for something."

"Ms. Watson," William folded his hands on the desk. He was still smiling as he spoke, which seemed to have a calming effect on Sophia. "I completely understand. Because of circumstances beyond anyone's control, the boys' mother doesn't live with us anymore. Amanda is not only my assistant, she helps me with Mycroft and Sherlock as well. Don't misunderstand, we only have a working relationship, although we are good friends. I would be happy to mentor your son, Ms. Watson."

Sophia let out a breath she didn't realize that she was holding.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Holmes!" Sophia said. "I really appreciate this."

* * *

"So John, are you into any sports, or music, drama maybe?" Amanda asked as they strolled out to the garden out the back of the flat.

"I play clarinet, and I tried out for the cricket team, but it wasn't for me." John couldn't help but peek over his shoulder at Sherlock who had been following them.

"Cricket is for dumb jocks anyway." Sherlock said derisively.

"Sherlock," Amanda glanced at the boy out of the corner of her eye. John watched the exchange and looked back at Sherlock. He was glaring at Amanda, but as soon as he looked over at John, his expression lightened.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"Sherlock, stop." Amanda had stopped walking and turned to face Sherlock who had his arms crossed defiantly.

Sherlock quirked his eyebrow as John gave him a scornful look.

"What is that supposed to mean?" John started to walk toward Sherlock, but Amanda stopped him.

"No, please ignore him. Let's-"

"No. I'm curious now, thank you." John nodded at Amanda who opened her mouth to try to object one more time, but shut it when she saw the resolve in John's eyes.

Sherlock raised his brow, but it was the only emotion he showed. Not only was he surprised that John agreed to let Sherlock deduce him, but the fact that John defied Amanda, made Sherlock even more curious about John.

The boy stood in front of Sherlock, open palms and an open book.

"I can see that you are a military brat, your hair is cut short and proper. Your uniform top, which is a polo, has been ironed, so have your pants, to have creases in the proper places. You walk like you idolize the military, but you can't quite keep a good pace. Your father has either been wounded or killed in service and your mother has been taking care of you the past two years because you smell more of her than you do a father. Your sister loves you, but picks on you incessantly. Was your father in Afghanistan, or Iraq?"

Amanda tried to interrupt several times but neither boy heard her.

John stood looking at him mouth agape.

"How...?"

Sherlock's only reply was a small smirk, and quirk of his eyebrow.

John drew in a deep breath through his nose.

"Don't ever mention my father again."

Sherlock shrugged one shoulder. "You wanted to know how I knew."

"That's enough Sherlock." Amanda's voice finally broke through to them.

John looked down at his shoes and saw another pair of shiny men's shoes come into his view.

"Everything okay Amanda?" William's deep voice seemed to boom through the hall way.

"Yes Mr. Holmes. Just reigning in Sherlock's ego."

"If anyone can do it, it's you Amanda!" William laughed heartily. It reminded John of his father's laugh.

Sherlock harrumphed and sulked off.

John was mad, but also curious. He had seen kids on the end of Sherlock's deducing wrath, and the situation always ended badly; either in a fight, or the other kid bullying Sherlock. John wanted to hop in, but he never knew who to defend. It was the stupid kids fault for getting involved with Sherlock. At the same time, Sherlock should know by now that the kids are taunting him. When John finally got involved, he ended up defending Sherlock, even though he regretted it instantly. The other kid took a swing at John and John swung back and connected with the other kids jaw. He, in turn, tackled John and they both ended up in the dirt, a bloody mess. They also received detention. John later found out the boy was the star cricket player. And Sherlock never said thank you.

"C'mon John, time to go." Sophie had her hand on his shoulder as he nodded.

"Thank you Mr. Holmes and Amanda. I hope to see you soon." John smiled warmly at the two adults.

"I'm glad that Sherlock didn't scare you off. He has a tendency to do that sometimes." Amanda said as she clasped her hands in front of her.

"No, I'm more curious of him than anything else, now. I guess I'll try to make friends with him at school." John was looking off in the direction that Sherlock had walked.

The three looked at each other awkwardly and Sophia broke the silence.

"Well, thank you both for having us today. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow when I pick up John."

"You won't be dropping him off?" Amanda asked.

"No, unfortunately. I have to work. I'll leave bus money-"

"That won't be necessary, Ms. Watson. I have to pick up Sherlock and my daughter Emile form the same school, it's no trouble to pick up John as well."

"I don't want to burden you-"

Amanda gently placed her hand on Sophia's arm. "Trust me, it's no bother!"

Sophia drew in a deep breath. "O-Okay."

Amanda smiled and her whole face lit up.

"Alright, then it's settled." William's smile was infectious. "I must get back to work, but it was nice meeting you two and I look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

John and Sophia said their goodbyes and Amanda walked them out. As he walked past the staircase, John followed the bannister up to the top again, and again, saw Sherlock. This time he was sitting with his body vertical to the stair rail and his face pressed through the bars, his eyes following John.

John furrowed his brow and shook his head, trying to rid of the creepy feeling that Sherlock was somehow trying to read his mind.

* * *

Amanda had told John to meet Sherlock and Emile by the lamp post at the end of the block, that way she could avoid other moms and traffic. He was leaning against the post at a quarter to four, since his class got out early that day. He had seen Sherlock take off before him, but wasn't able to catch up with him. Now he looked around, and didn't see the boy anywhere. Other school kids were milling around nearby waiting for their rides, when John happened to spot a beautiful girl walking towards him. Her hair was a shiny chestnut brown color, similar to Amanda's and pulled back with a dark green head band that matched the green in the jumper uniform the girls had to wear. She was walking with a pretty blond girl and when they both laughed, it sounded genuine, not like the fake cheerleader laughs that he heard most girls have. As she came closer, she looked up at John and her smile got bigger. It was similar to Amanda's in that it lit up her whole face. John looked bashfully at his shoes, then back up at her and smiled.

"Hi, you must be John?" Her voice was even pretty.

"Ah, yeah, hi,"

_'Smooth, real smooth,'_ he thought to himself.

"Yes, sorry, I am John, nice to meet you." He held out his hand.

"I'm Emile, Amanda's daughter," she said as she shook his hand and then gestured at her friend. "And this is Mary. Mary Morstan."

John and Mary smiled at each other. Mary's blond hair was cut shoulder length and her blue eyes sparkled when she smiled.

_'Dammit, this would be easier if they were ugly.'_

"Stop staring John, it's unbecoming of you." Sherlock suddenly seemed to appear out of no-where.

"Emile," Sherlock said with a slight sneer, or so John thought. "And Mary, always a pleasure to see you." He took Mary's hand and kissed it before John could shake it.

"Ugh, Sherlock, why do you have to be so...weird?" Emile asked.

"Oh? I thought I was being charming." He smiled at both girls. John saw that Mary was trying hard not to blush.

"So, another afternoon at the Holmes household, eh John?" Sherlock held his hands behind his back as he observed the other kids nearby.

"Another?" Emile asked as she pulled her hair back out of her face.

"Yes, he came over yesterday with his mum while you were in Orchestra practice. Something about father tutoring him. Boring."

"And you should have been in orchestra practice as well, mister." Emile glared as she talked to Sherlock. When she turned to John, her expression lightened. "Now that I think of it, aren't you in orchestra?"

"Yeah, I play clarinet-" John started.

"I play flute. I've seen you in the front row. You're really good." Mary piped in.

"Oh, um, thank you."

"Boring," Sherlock said as he walked through their conversation to get to Amanda's car.

"How was school, guys?" Amanda asked a few minutes later after everyone piled into the car. Sherlock groaned and hunkered down into his seat behind Amanda and placed his earphones in his ears. John sat in the middle and Mary on his left, with Emile in the front turned as far as the seat belt would allow, to face everyone.

"It was well, thank you, Amanda." Mary said. "And thank you for picking me up, I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem. I'm excited for the sleepover tonight."

Emile clapped her hands and Sherlock tried to push himself further into the seat.

"Oh god," he mumbled.

John swallowed hard. He felt like he was a third wheel in this whole situation and was wishing he would have told his mother to not worry about starting the tutoring tonight, on a Friday night, nonetheless. Not that John had anything going on besides a video game and maybe a book to read. Maybe his one friend Mike would have called and asked if he wanted to play some pool, or go to the arcade, but that was the extent of his Friday nights. Now, he had a tutoring session and squealing girls to deal with.

"Oh, John, I apologize, Mr. Holmes has a dinner party he has to attend this evening, so we postponed the tutoring until Monday. I've already talked to your Mum, and she said it was fine. She works until eight, right? Well, you should stay with us until then. Unless you want to go home?"

Internally, John was screaming. He wanted the tutoring session. Now he would have to find a quiet room to read for four hours.

"You can hang out in my room. I'm probably gonna hole up there all evening to avoid their madness." Sherlock was holding one ear bud in his hand as he spoke. There was no scorn, no hint of sarcasm. His expression was mostly bored. It was like these people were reading his mind.

"Ah, sure, alright, I'll hang at your house then."

Amanda smiled at him in the rear-view. "Good, I'm glad!"

John smiled back at her as he listened to the girls prattle on about the evening ahead. He dug in his bag for his player and felt Sherlock watching him. He looked out of the corner of his eye and indeed did see those mysterious blue-green eyes looking at him, or his hands digging in his bag. He found his player and pushed the play button and placed the earphones over his ears. He looked directly at Sherlock who smirked at John. John wasn't sure what kind of expression he gave Sherlock, he was so confused at their exchange, and Sherlock actually grinned as he looked away.


	2. The Spark

**A/N:**_Here is chapter two of my Teen!Lock fan-fiction. Keep in mind I have placed this in the year 1993 because they are in high school. I apologize, I'm not sure what the equivalent is in the U.K. This might seem dis-jointed and I apologize for that! This is subject to changes and improvements in the future. If you have questions, or comments or concerns, please let me know! I don't bite, hard! _

* * *

"C'mon, before they suck you into something you don't want to do." Sherlock was halfway up the staircase and gesturing wildly when John meandered into the flat. The girls were a couple of steps ahead and talking excitedly among themselves. John quickly closed the front door and trotted up the stairs to follow Sherlock to his room. It was surprisingly messy, with piles of books and papers and a skull on his dresser to his right that John pointed at.

"A skull?"

"He's...a friend." Sherlock grinned and gestured to the bench under the window across from the door way. A pillow with a Union Jack design on one side rested comfortably in the corner.

"I need to talk to my father before he leaves for his dinner party." Sherlock said as he took off his coat and hung it on the back of the door and walked out of his room.

John sighed. He already had a long day, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for the emotional roller coaster of questions he was sure Sherlock was going to heap on him.

He sat on the bench and placed his messenger bag on the floor beside him. The view out of the window was pretty remarkable. He had a distant view of the London eye and tower. A mist hung in the air, obscuring the view to the rest of the town, but he could see, in the fading daylight, the lights from the city poking through the mist.

Even though the rain that fell earlier in the day made everything cold and damp, the girls were out in the garden in the back of the flat. William came into view along with Sherlock. John could see where Sherlock inherited his mysteriously sculpted cheekbones and the dark hair. He also saw the lean and lanky way they stood was similar as well. Sherlock said something to his father and pointed up to the room where William looked and waved. John waved back and smiled. Sherlock said something to someone out of John's view, then walked away.

John brought his attention to Sherlock's room again. The walls were painted a standard beige color. John had missed a picture of a skull in his first assessment of the room, hanging over the head of Sherlock's bed that was opposite him, on the same wall as the door. He also noticed a picture on Sherlock's nightstand that looked like a woman. John was so intrigued by this, he forgot to listen for Sherlock's footsteps on the stairs. He sat on the bed and grabbed the picture. It was a woman; a woman with big blue-green eyes and full lips that resembled Sherlock's.

"My mother was a very logical woman living in a very emotionally charged house." Sherlock's voice startled John who fumbled the picture and almost dropped it. Sherlock knelt and grabbed it in time.

"Bloody hell," John said under his breath as he put a hand over his heart.

Sherlock chuckled. "Don't worry, I can replace the frame. I don't care about that."

He was still kneeling in front of John as he placed the frame back on his nightstand.

"Ah... so, what happened to her?" John said as he scratched his head nervously.

"Hmm...my father had an affair with a psychology professor, ironically enough, and my mother couldn't handle it. She divorced him and moved to France to be with her relatives there. Father bowed out gracefully at the University, which is why he tutors." Sherlock scrubbed his face with his hand.

"Oh..." John was going to apologize for asking, but remembered what Sherlock did to him yesterday and stopped himself.

"Why aren't you living with your mother?"

"I don't get along with her mother, my grandmother. Plus, I like London."

Sherlock stood and ran a hand through his hair. "I was right yesterday wasn't I?"

"Yes, you were." John refused to look at him, staring at his hands instead.

"C'mon, you can admit it. You are curious how I knew all that about your father aren't you."

"I don't feel like talking about my father." John looked up and found Sherlock bent at the waist, his hands on his hips and a cocky look on his face that disappeared as soon as he saw the hurt in John's eyes.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "You were very close to your father. You miss him, more than you will admit. Your mother is hoping that you will bond with my father to have some sort of male influence in your life-"

"Shut-up Sherlock!" John suddenly stood. He was a couple of years older than Sherlock, but they were the same height. "You need to think before you say things."

Sherlock blinked at John.

"I'm going to leave-" A cold hand gripped John's wrist tightly as he started to grab for his bag. He looked down at the hand, then up at Sherlock's face. The expression he wore was something John had never seen there before. "What the-"

"You are right." Sherlock's voice was low and soft. "I should think before I speak. I can't. It's...It is..."

Sherlock swallowed hard and he blinked several times. Normally, John would make a jab at another boy for crying. Seeing the emotions that crossed Sherlock's face; he couldn't bring himself to do that to Sherlock.

"It is...what?" John prompted the other boy.

Sherlock pursed his lips. John could almost see Sherlock's brain working overtime.

"It's hard for me to control what I say. I have to speak my mind. I have to vocalize what I am thinking sometimes. And sometimes it doesn't make sense."

John blinked.

"Is it as hard to express emotions? Or gratitude?"

"I- what?"

"I see you struggling right now with something, and I think it's this exchange. No one has ever confronted you like I have." John pulled the hand into view on which Sherlock had a tight grip. "You are also hurting my hand."

"Oh," Sherlock let go and John shook his hand to get the feeling back. "Please don't leave."

"What?" John was still shaking his hand.

"I was hoping you would stay. That's why I had the tight grip on your hand."

"I...umm..." John looked everywhere but Sherlock. He'd never had this happen with another boy. He'd had girls ask him to stay, although to be fair on John's part, he had no idea what he was doing at the time. He was thirteen, he didn't realize that girls hearts could be broken so young. He had gotten in fights with his friends over stupid video game, he'd go cool off and they'd apologize. Well, more like grunt at each other.

Confused, John sat down on the bench under the window. "Yeah, I'll stay. Whatever."

"Good, I'm glad." Sherlock said slowly. "Thank you, and I am sorry, John."

John was so surprised at the words, he wasn't sure he heard them right. He went to stand in front of Sherlock again. The boys eyes were shut tight and his fists were shaking.

"It's alright, Sherlock, my hand-"

Sherlock suddenly sprung into life and grabbed John's hand again. "No, you don't understand. It's not just the hand. It's everything. It's you defending me that day, it's you talking to me in class like I am human, it's you making me want to feel something again."

John stared incredulously at Sherlock.

Sherlock's bottom lip started to shake and he sniffed. "My mother taught Mycroft and I to value our brains and educating them, over emotions and feelings. She said that those things would just get in the way and complicate everything. When she left, I didn't know what to think, how to contain the emotions I was feeling. I was angry for the longest time, because, if she followed what she said to be true, she wouldn't have left, because that meant she didn't feel anything for my father. But she did, and she left us."

A tear spilled from Sherlock's eye and John and he looked down at his shoes.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." John's voice came out in a whisper.

Sherlock sniffed and looked at his hand wrapped around John's wrist and released it.

"I know we don't know each other well, but-" John paused, unsure of himself, and surprised at the things he was going to say. "But if you want to talk about it-"

Sherlock drew in a sharp breath and tapped at his head. "I'm not sure that's a good idea. I have a lot going on up here that my therapist can't even sort out."

"You have a therapist?" John said slowly as his brow furrowed.

"Yes." Sherlock sighed loudly and sat down on his bed. To Sherlock's surprise, John sat next to him. Sherlock's eyes darted over John's face.

No Judgment.

Only an open, honest face.

"My mom put me into group therapy of sorts," John cleared his throat and looked down at his hands in his lap. "When my father died..."

Sherlock scooted closer to John.

John sniffed and looked up. "Ever since my father died, I've had nightmares. Mom wasn't strong enough to deal with them herself, although, she was comforting at night. There were a couple of times I woke up swinging and fighting."

"I was right, you were close to your father. But why the violent nightmares?"

John clenched his jaw, but kept his sarcasm to himself. "Yes, we were close. The last time I talked with him...was a very late Sunday evening, one or two in the morning, I think. He was thinking his unit was going to be called out into the field, so he told them that they each could have one call." John's throat became tight, his eyes watery. "My father...my father told me he loved me, and that no matter what, he was proud of me and he would talk to me in two weeks."

John wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Sorry, I don't know why I unloaded on you like that just now. It's not something that I share with a lot of people. I should leave you alone-"

John started to get up, but was stopped again by Sherlock's tight grip around his arm.

"No! Stay, please. I was just going to be reading or researching," Sherlock paused and ran a hand through his unruly dark hair. "Maybe it would be good for both of us to just sit and talk."

John's eyes searched the others face. He saw nothing but open honesty there. So open, that it scared John a little. He had never seen such raw emotion since his father's funeral. The way his mother cried made his heart-break, and it hurt now thinking about it.

"What are you thinking about?" Sherlock's voice broke into his thoughts.

"Sorry, what?"

"I saw something in the look you gave me just now."

John gave a small smile. "My mother says I have a very expressive face. That I wear my heart on my sleeve, whatever that means."

"It means to display your emotions openly. It may derive from the custom at middle ages jousting matches. Knights are said to have worn the colors of the lady they were supporting, in cloths or ribbons tied to their arms. I don't think it dates from that period though. I believe it was first recorded in Shakespeare's 'Othello'. Iago's plan was to feign openness and vulnerability to appear faithful."

John opened his mouth to say something, but was so rattled by Sherlock's train of thought that nothing came out.

Sherlock smirked.

"I am part of the theatre group at the school and we are putting on Hamlet in early December." He stood and grabbed the skull. "Hence the skull."

"You are full of surprises aren't you?" John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock and the dark-haired boy winked at him.

"More than you know."

"Sherlock?" Amanda's soft voice and a gentle knock on Sherlock's door stopped Sherlock from going into his piece on Hamlet.

"Yes, Amanda?" Sherlock had to clear his voice before he answered her and he held the back of his hand to his mouth as he watched John get up and open his bag.

"John's mother is on the phone." Amanda said as Sherlock opened the door.

"Thank you, Amanda, John can take it in here."

"Oh, okay." She smiled warmly at John and he gave an awkward smile back at her. "Everything okay in here? You two have been awfully quiet."

"Yes, we were just studying and reading." Sherlock pursed his lips together and nodded and started to close the door. "Thank you Amanda."

"You're welcome, Sherlock. John can spend the night if he needs to! Oh and there is dinner in the kitchen. Home made pizza."

"Thank you, we'll be down in a minute." Amanda nodded and Sherlock closed the door.

"Where's your phone?" John asked.

"Oh, yes. It's over here." Sherlock walked over to his desk in the corner of the room and lifted papers to reveal the phone. John walked over and grabbed the phone. Before he could push the talk button, a hand came into view. He looked up and Sherlock's gaze bore into John as he drew in a sharp breath.

"You _are_ welcome to spend the night." His voice was low and it rumbled through John's muddled brain. It affected him so, that all he could do was nod once.

"Hi, mum," John stuttered as he turned away from Sherlock who cocked his head to hear the conversation. It took all his self-control to not hug John when he heard him ask if he could spend the night.

"Thank you, mum. Love you. Okay...okay...yes, oh, um I never thought of that...Wait I have an extra outfit...yes mum. I'll be fine, I promise. K, yes...Love you too. Bye."

John pushed the off button and turned. Sherlock was right behind him.

"Oh, god," the sandy-haired boy put his hand over his heart. "Why do you have to stand so close to me?" John smirked as a song ran through his head.

"Are you spending the night?" Sherlock cocked his head. "Why are you smiling?"

"Don't stand so, don't stand so, don't stand so close to me..." John sang and snapped his fingers. He stopped when he saw the confused expression on Sherlock's face.

"Right, let's get something to eat." Sherlock turned on his heel and John followed him out of the room and down the stairs.

John ended up spending the weekend at Sherlock's house. Thinking back on it over the week, he surprised himself by putting up with Sherlock. John found out however that Sherlock was worse around other people, but he was civilized to John.

It wasn't until three weeks later that he found out why.

John was in his living room pacing. He was early in getting ready for the date that he had finally gotten the courage to ask Mary Morstan out on.

"Dude, calm down." Harry said as she entered the room with a couple of sodas and tossed one to John who almost dropped his. "She said yes, and she's pretty to boot. You've got this!"

"Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

"Because, you are my baby brother, you are going on your first date. Mom and dad aren't here to witness it, so I want to make sure you are...sent off properly."

John looked at his sister incredulously. "Have you been drinking? Which you better not be because you are driving."

"Pshaw," Harry said after taking a drink. "That's not until later bonehead!"

John rolled his eyes and drank his soda as Harry approached him. She was only a couple of inches taller than him but her unruly red hair made her look taller.

"Listen, John," she placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know we've had our differences and arguments, but, I want you to know that I really do love you, because you are my little brother, and you might be all I have in the future."

John grunted as Harry took him in a bear hug. He was so unsure of himself that he couldn't respond. When she pulled back, Harry's face was streaked with tears.

"Oh God, you are being serious." John whispered as he wiped his sisters tears. "What is going on, Harry?"

"I-I can't tell you until I know it's serious." She wiped her nose on her sleeve.

"A boy, what's so wrong about being serious with a boy?"

"When that boy is a girl."

John gaped at his sister.

"You hate me don't you?"

"I-...no of course not," John shuffled his feet nervously. "I'm just surprised. I had no idea."

"Yeah, well, it's not something I advertise. People aren't so open-minded at the school, you know?"

John knew, as he thought of Sherlock.

"And you are afraid of how mom will react?" He went on.

She nodded and her hair bounced with her.

He took a drink and hummed. "I think she'll be fine. She's pretty open-minded."

"Dad wasn't."

"Dad was military...wait you told dad?"

"No, but his cousin came out and Dad disowned him."

"Oh." John frowned. "How did mom take that news?"

"With a grain of salt I guess," Harry shrugged. "She was so calm and mild-mannered then."

Harry stood after a long silence and grabbed her keys and purse. "We should get going. And John?"

"Yeah?" He said as Harry hugged him again.

"Thank you!"

"Of course."

* * *

"John," Mary said breathlessly as she stepped closer to him. "It's so beautiful."

They had been watching fireworks from a park close to the restaurant Harry had her own date that she met at the same restaurant that John and Mary ate. They all walked to the park, bundled up and holding their hands out to the bonfire.

"I'm glad you like it Mary." He put his arm around her and she snuggled into him. They chatted for a few more minutes, then John leaned forward.

"May I?" He smiled and he could see her eyes twinkling.

"Yes," she answered and he closed the distance between them. Her lips were soft and she smelled of cinnamon. He let his tongue roam over her lips and she paused, but then opened her mouth just enough to let him in. John kept waiting for the fireworks. Waiting for that feeling one is supposed to get when they finally kiss the girl of their dreams. He gently pulled away when it never came.

He opened his eyes and saw that Mary still had hers closed and she sighed. He clenched his teeth and stifled a scream. Six years he had waited for the fireworks, six years he had been disappointed.

Mary smiled brightly up at John and he returned the smile as best he could.

* * *

"John, what's wrong? You are a sixteen year-old boy. You should have hit that!" Harry exclaimed after turning over the motor on her car.

He smirked at her, then sighed.

"The fireworks weren't there."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. I suppose I'm a romantic at heart. I want that feeling, that exhilaration you get when you kiss someone and you know it's right."

"Good god, boy! Are you a virgin?" Harry glanced over at him as he squirmed.

"Oh my God!" She grinned, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

"I've made out with tons of girls," John sighed.

"I'm sorry. I should be proud of you. Hell I am proud of you for not giving it up so easily. But a good-looking kid like you? You should be getting some action!"

"Thanks...I think."

"Are you going to see her again?"

"Yes, we made plans to go to the cinema. We'll see how that goes."

"Will you hand me a pen?" Sherlock said to John as he entered his bedroom a couple of weeks later. He was sitting in the window seat, his hands steepled under his chin.

John dug in his bag for a pen and tossed it to Sherlock who started twirling it between his fingers.

"What's going on?" John asked as he sat down on the bed. "You seemed nervous about something when you talked to me downstairs."

Sherlock was silent for a minute before he stood and grabbed a notebook from his desk, then sat next to John.

"How was your dates with Mary?" He asked still twirling the pen.

"Good. She's a nice girl. I like her."

Sherlock's blue-green eyes swept over John's face then met his eyes. John held his intense gaze, then turned away.

"What's with you?" John looked down at his hands. "You have been acting stranger than usual the past couple weeks."

"You think I'm strange?" Sherlock's voice was quiet.

"You're different from most kids. It's not a bad thing." John looked back up at the other boy. "We've had this conversation before...did something happen today?"

"You don't feel anything for Mary do you?"

"What-?"

"You don't feel that spark when you are with her. You don't try anything with her and she initiates all the kisses-"

"Sherlock? What the hell? Are you following us?"

"No, well, kind of. I-"

"I don't need this right now." John's voice came out in a low growl as he stood and grabbed his bag and started out of the room.

"Wait, please, John."

Sherlock's tone made John stop and turn. Sherlock was standing right behind him. He had a pleading looking on his face that John had never seen before. John opened his mouth to say something but Sherlock interrupted.

"I just want you to be happy."

"I am happy. I don't understand, what is going on, Sherlock?"

"Are you happy when you're with me?"

"Yes," John drew in a breath to calm his frustration. "Sherlock, you're not usually this ambiguous with me. Please, just tell me what is going on in that crazy head of yours."

Sherlock blinked at him, then opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then stopped. John's eyes glanced at his perfectly shaped lips, which were suddenly on his own. He was so shocked, he couldn't move. Sherlock stepped away.

"I'm sorry," when John didn't move, Sherlock put his hand on each side of John's face.

"No, I'm not."

Then leaned in and kissed John again.

The only thing that John knew in that moment was that it felt right and the spark that he had waited six years for, finally came crashing down on him like a lightning bolt.


End file.
